


selected letters

by willowcabins



Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Lazy Mornings, Smutlet, TAGGING IS HARD OKaY, idek cute sunday morning sex, just that basically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-22
Updated: 2013-06-22
Packaged: 2017-12-15 18:49:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/852849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/willowcabins/pseuds/willowcabins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If you were in a tiny bookstore in London and you found a collection of selected letters by your girlfriend would you buy them? More importantly, would you ~tell her you bought them?</p>
            </blockquote>





	selected letters

“If you were in a tiny bookstore in London and you found a collection of selected letters by your girlfriend would you buy them?” Pete blinks in surprise and then tilts his head thoughtfully.

“I have _never_ thought about that,” he admits considering the question for a second.

“Is it a gross invasion of privacy?” The rephrased question was easier for Pete. He looks at Myka thoughtfully.

“Well, on one hand, those are personal letters,” he weighs up. “On the other hand, they _are_ published. It would just be like stalking her Facebook, just less obvious and less stalkery.”

“Also, Helena doesn’t have Facebook,” Myka adds. Pete shrugs.

“They’re considered literature, right?” He asks with a shrug. Myka nods.

“They’re really well written. Also about Warehouse 12!” Pete furrows his brow at her. Myka grins. “She describes a “fictional place of endless wonder” to her daughter in almost every letter, and its like the Warehouse but not quite. In one of the letters I just read she fights a vampire!”

“There were vampires in Victorian England?” Myka laughs.

“No, dummie. Helena knew making her daughter her One was dangerous, so she _didn’t_ make her the One, but rather told her stories. Which coincidently were sometimes set in a large place that smelt like apples.”

“Man HG is so clever,” Pete sighs. Myka blushes, almost as if on her girlfriend’s behalf. “Then I think your totally entitled to reading them,” Pete finishes with a flourish. Myka bites her lip: it still feels like stalking.

 

Weekends are calm: often they just include working in the afternoon after one of Leena’s famous brunches. Helena likes to sleep in, curled around Myka and breathing in the warmth. Myka used to get up in the morning to run and read and write to her family, but now she’s loathe to leave Helena: she has begun just enjoying the mornings with a book propped against a pillow.

Helena’s eyes flutter open slowly: Myka feels the light flickering sensation on her shoulders and carefully puts down her book, sliding it into the drawer in her nightstand. “Good morning,” she murmurs as Helena shifts so she’s looking up at Myka.

“Good morning,” Helena mumbles in response, blinking heavily against the sunlight filtering in through the half closed curtains. “What time is it?

“Just past ten,” Myka assures Helena. Helena hums happily and shifts, sinking further into the bed and tangling her own legs around Myka’s, sighing contently as her eyes flutter shut.

“I love Sundays,” she murmurs. Myka murmurs in agreement, stroking Helena’s hair. “What were you reading?”

“Not much,” Myka evades. Helena’s eyes open and she glances up in confusion.

“Not much?” She repeats the phrase quizzically. Her face breaks into a sly grin. “Is it one of my books?”

“No!” Myka slaps Helena’s arm playfully. Helena laughs.

“Oh right,” Helena corrects herself: “you’ve already read them all…”

“Yeah, that was before I found out the author was such an annoying warehouse agent, thought,” Myka points out.

“ _Your_ annoying warehouse agent,” Helena reminds Myka with a wicked grin. Myka rolls her eyes.

“That was _one time_ Helena!” Helena chuckles and pushes herself up so she can look at Myka, leaning on her elbow.

“Was it only one time?” She asks, smirking.

“Oh so clever.” It’s meant to be a sarcastic snapping insult, but it loses its force as Helena rearranges herself over Myka again, her knee taking purchase between Myka’s legs so the inventor can lean over the agent.

“I know, I _am_ very clever,” Helena agrees, brushing a chaste kiss over Myka’s lips. “No, what were you reading?”

“Seriously Helena?”

“I’m curious!”

“It’s not worth it.”

“Is it Phillipa Gregory?” Myka gasps in offense.

“No, it’s not!” She replies, indignation making her push Helena’s shoulder. “I have _standards_ you know, Ms. Wells.”

“Why are you hiding the book from me then?” Helena whines, childish impatience making Myka laugh.

“It’s private?” She suggests, but she’s grinning at Helena and Helena wants to cherish her like this, her happiness and her comfort written on her face. Instead she grinds down her hips.

“Is it erotica?” She asks, grinning. Myka punches her in the shoulder again, harder this time.

“No!” Helena rolls her eyes and attempts a different tactic, lowering herself so her body is draped over Myka’s. She leans in and whispers in Myka’s ear hotly.

“Tell me,” Helena commands, rocking her hips and letting her hand trail down Myka’s torso. Myka gasps quietly, but before Helena can even grin in satisfaction, Myka retaliates.

“No,” she growls quietly, angling her own leg up to afford her some momentum so she can roll Helena onto her back.

“No?” Helena repeats, swallowing as Myka hot breaths billow against her cheeks. Her eyes flicker to Myka’s lips.

“No,” Myka agrees settling on her forearms and carefully stroking Helena’s hair out of her face as she settles her hips on Helena’s. Helena never wears much at night: tonight is no exception as her skimpy nightgown rides up and she arches her back on the bed. Myka leans forward lightly, but before Helena can capture her lips she backs away with a teasing grin. Helena sighs and leans back into the pillow, her own hands threading through Myka’s hair as the agent leaves a hot kiss on Helena’s jaw, nipping lightly. Helena feels sleep fall off her as her body responds, infantile bits along her neck making the Inventor keen quietly. Myka smiles into Helena’s neck, and Helena knows she’s enjoying this torture.

“You’re cruel,” Helena gasps as Myka bites harder: Helena’s hips buck into Myka’s thigh unbidden. Myka laughs again, musical throaty laugh dancing along Helena’s shoulder lightly.

“I can’t deny that,” Myka agrees, leaning forward so she’s hovering over Helena’s face again. Helena grins up at the beautiful brunette and tries to capture her lips again: this time Myka lets her, chaste kisses becoming deeper as Helena shifts into Myka’s still clothed groin. Myka’s hand trails down to Helena’s abdomen, pushing up nightdress. She hooks her arm around Helena’s waist and sits up, pulling HG with her without breaking the kiss and fumbling with the silk Victoria’s Secret night dress. Helena gasps: sitting up changes the place of pressure of Myka’s thigh and she sucks at Myka’s lip.

“Helena,” Myka moans, interrupting their kiss to push Helena’s night dress over her head. Helena pushes at Myka’s own, more traditional pyjama top until that also comes off and Myka lowers Helena to the bed again, her mouth travelling from Helena’s mouth to her jaw, to her neck, down to her chest. Helena’s nipples were already hard peaks with arousal, but Myka loves hearing Helena’s moans when she pays homage to them, so she bites lightly. Helena’s moan of approval goes straight to Myka’s groin, heat settling low in her stomach as Helena’s back arches again.

“I want you so badly right now,” Myka whispers against Helena’s wet chest and Helena gasps: Myka’s voice is always enhanced when it hangs heavy with arousal. Helena sits up, capturing Myka’s mouth in her own as her hands run down Myka’s torso and slide into her pyjama trousers. One hand trails through Myka’s wet center; the other anchors itself at the top of her thigh. Myka hisses at the impact as she overbalances and falls on her back. Helena follows her, eyes dark with arousal, drinking in the sight of Myka. Myka’s breath catches and her hand slides up Helena’s thigh and her head thunks back onto the pillow as the time traveller’s fingers sets a languid pace between Myka’s legs.

“Will you tell me what you’re reading?” Myka’s eyes flutter open and she tries to glare at Helena, but Helena’s fingers have set a wonderful pace and Myka’s back arches, better to align herself with Helena’s hand. Helena crawls up Myka’s body, her hand movements slowing as she props herself up on her elbow and carefully traces Myka’s clavicle, feather light touches tantalising Myka.

“No, I won’t tell you,” Myka gasps. Helena chuckles, dropping her mouth to leave a hot, pain laced kiss on Myka’s collarbone. She curls her fingers slightly inside Myka and the pace of her hand picks up. Myka’s hips roll in response: Helena’s hand stops. “Helena!” Myka hisses. Helena hovers over Myka’s face: her hair hangs on the right side, casting Myka’s face in shadow as the artificer grins.

“Stay still,” she commands quietly, kissing Myka slowly. Myka’s hips still as she brings her hand up to push Helena’s hair out of her face. She carefully caresses her cheek and kisses her tenderly. Helena hums against the kiss, deepening it as her hand began moving again. Myka’s body cants into Helena’s, her hands sliding around Helena’s neck as she keens quietly into her mouth.

Helena gasps: her hips begin driving her hand, which slowly picks up pace until at pace with Myka’s panting as the agent lies, flushed and light sweat building on her brow, below Helena.

“Helena.” It’s less of plea and more of a request, but Myka’s voice is husky and it hits Helena in the stomach, sinking down into liquid head between her legs as she curves her fingers, increasing their peace to a feverish pitch, the palm of her hand connecting with Myka’s clit. Myka lifts her hips helpfully as Helena bites down on the juncture between her shoulder and neck, an especially sensitive spot. It’s exactly what Myka needs: her insides shiver and shimmer and suddenly she feels like liquid. Helena watches her come undone at her hand, her own stomach clenching with arousal, kissing Myka’s shoulders lightly.

“Oh darling Myka,” Helena sighs as Myka’s hands run through Helena’s hair. The agent pulls her artificer up and kisses her tenderly as Helena extracts her fingers and Myka presses her body into Helena’s. Myka murmurs something against Helena’s lips.

“What?” Helena asks quietly.

“I’m still not telling you what I was reading,” Myka whispers, Helena’s forehead resting against her own. Helena laughs quietly.

“You’re mean.” Myka laughs before pushing Helena over and straddling her with ease. Myka, sitting on her hips, heat and evidence of her orgasm smearing along Helena’s thigh, seems to rob Helena of breath for a second.

“Am I, though?” She asks, her thigh sliding between Helena’s legs. Helena swallows and sits up so she can capture Myka’s lips again, leaning into the kiss hungrily.

“Yes, yes, you are,” Helena whispers, but she says the words like a prayer and chills run down Myka’s back.

 

Helena dances down the stairs, dressed and ready for breakfast, followed by Myka. On seeing them, Claudia calls Myka in the dining room to show her something: Helena goes in search of Pete.

 Pete’s in the kitchen, helping Leena by setting all the food in the kitchen on the tray and sneaking a few bites. Leena slaps his hand and the agent whines. “Morning, Helena,” he greets her with a smile.

“Good morning, Pete.” Helena replies, sly smile on her face. “Do you know by any chance what Myka’s reading?”

“Some selected letters,” Pete replies absently, stealing a blueberry. Helena’s brow furrows until Pete suddenly looks at her, horror spelt across his face. “I didn’t mean that!” He tries to correct himself. “She’s reading a book! A different book!” Helena grins.

“I figured it out,” Helena sang triumphantly, swaning into the living room where Claudia is showing Myka the blue prints to the Goo Grenade IV she’s working on.

“What?” Myka asks, glancing up.

“Are you enjoying my letters?” Myka blushes a deep red.

“What?” She squeaks.

“The Selected Letters of HG Wells. I have a copy: you could have borrowed mine!” Helena’s pleased with herself and she shares a grin with Claudia as the younger woman laughs at Myka kindly.

“Busted!” Claudia teases. Myka narrows her eyes at her.

“Pete!” She roars instead, taking off out of the living room.

“Fuck!” Pete’s squeak is followed with a clatter and then some shouts and finally Leena calling “If either of you break anything I’m going to _kill_ you.”

 


End file.
